


Gentleman Callers

by lesbianettes



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom!Buck, Brat!Buck, British!Buck, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Smut, Hurt!Eddie Diaz, I'm not sorry, Kissing, Literally this is almost entirely porn, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Attraction, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Phone Sex Operator!Buck, Pining, Porn With Plot, Sexting, Smut, Teasing, Tender Sex, Top!Eddie, commission, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianettes/pseuds/lesbianettes
Summary: Eddie never meant to get attached to the voice on the other end of the line. Buck never thought he'd be so into a client. Things get complicated quick.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 269





	Gentleman Callers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BabyImNotFoolin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyImNotFoolin/gifts).



> I've gone over this and had a couple friends review it multiple times but because of its length if we missed any grammatical errors please let me know

“I don’t normally do this sort of thing, just so you know.”

Eddie wants to smack himself in the face. It’s not like they’re going to judge him for calling; phone sex lines generally like it when you call them, it’s what keeps them in business. They probably don’t actually care whether or not he’s a first-time customer or a regular who’s on the line twice a day. All that matters is he’s read off the information on his credit card, and he’s responding to each question they ask for his profile. They’ll keep the record. Does he like men, women, or both? Does he have a preference? What’s he into? Is he a top or bottom? Does he like to talk or be talked to? Saying aloud in his room that he likes to fuck mouthy bottoms is strange, but it’s part of the process. A couple of his army buddies recommended the service back in El Paso, but it isn’t until now, stretched out on a plain bed in his empty home, that he dials the number on the business card. 

“Okay, Mr. Diaz, we’re going to transfer you now to your operator. If you enjoy it, you can make him your default choice for the future.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The waiting music is surprisingly generic. It isn’t sensual or slower than anything else, just that same elevator loop as he waits to be connected. Other than its tinny tone, the house is silent. He hasn’t turned on the AC, since he hasn’t found out how much it’ll cost yet, and Christopher is having fun with Abuela while Eddie gets the place set up. The basics are ready; the beds are set up, mattresses and covers in place. There are still boxes everywhere. But it’s enough to sleep in, and Eddie still has a couple hours to himself to unwind in a way he hasn’t been able to since Shannon left. 

It almost startles him when the music cuts off in favor of a voice, smooth and low with a hint of an accent he can’t place at first. “Hey there, handsome.”

Usually, the endearment feels forced, but it sounds natural from this man. Eddie shuts his eyes and tries to picture him from his voice, but comes up with nothing. He tries to put it to someone he’s seen before, overseas or online, but it feels weird to mismatch this stranger to someone he knows. 

“Uh, hi.”

The operator laughs a little, and it goes straight through Eddie’s body, filling him with heat. 

“First time?” Eddie can place his accent now. It’s not as strong as in the movies, but it’s sharply British. “It’s okay if it is, I’ll take care of you. My name’s Evan, what’s yours?”

“I’m- my name’s Ed- uh, I…”

He’s absolutely blowing it. The only reason Evan is still on the phone with him is because he’s getting paid, and if they were in a bar right now, there’s no doubt in Eddie’s mind he’d be left alone. The line stays live, and Evan eventually takes pity on him. 

“Alright, take it easy, Cowboy. You don’t have to tell me.” There’s a rustling of sheets, like Evan’s getting comfortable wherever he is. Not an office, then. “I know it’s a little cliche, but why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing?”

This is happening. 

“Just uh, just a tee shirt and my boxers. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah? Let me help you relax. Go ahead and touch yourself for me, baby.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to comply. Like he can’t resist, he cups himself over his underwear as soon as Evan orders him. It’s more of a tease, but if he’s doing this, he won’t rush through it. He’ll enjoy it. 

“Bossy.”

“Isn’t that how you wanted me?” Evan asks. His voice drops a little lower, now, gets breathy. Faintly in the background, there’s a slick noise like he’s decided to get himself off as well. Eddie is starting to realize why this call service is so highly recommended. “If you want to tell me what to do, Cowboy, I’ll do it. You want me on all fours, ready for you as soon as you walk in the door? I’d let you do whatever you wanted. If you wanted to choke me, or-”

He shakes his head. “No, I- I don’t want to do that. I want to…” Eddie slips his hand under his waistband. It’s too dry, he won’t get far like this, but it’s more anyway. “I’d wanna see your face while I fuck you. I’d make you come over and over until you couldn’t anymore, I wouldn’t- I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. That sounds really nice, love. I bet you know how to take care of me, hmm?”

“I do. I want to.”

“Such a gentleman.” There’s a click on the line that Eddie recognizes, that has him scrambling for his own bottle of lube. He’s stuck on Evan’s gentle teasing, the curve of his voice tugging Eddie closer despite the fact that they’re on two ends of the call, unable to see, unable to touch. “I’m getting myself ready for you. But I bet you would want to finger me yourself, right Cowboy?”

This time, Eddie’s able to conjure up a mental image. He feels like Evan would be built, pictures the shape of his ass and the way his fingers disappear inside himself the way he can hear on the other end of the call. It’s mostly vague other than that. But he imagines in painstaking detail what it would feel like to prep someone, to get them ready for him. To get Evan ready for him. 

“I could spend an hour doing it,” he responds. As soon as he gets a hand around himself, he knows he probably won’t last much longer. “Just to make you squirm. I wouldn’t fuck you until you were begging for it.”

“You like begging?”

“I guess so.”

Evan makes the most beautiful, breathy noise. He must have hit his prostate, found the right angle. “I’m getting kinda close. What about you? C’mon Cowboy, you almost there?”

Normally Eddie would be embarrassed, but it’s been too long since he’s touched himself, longer since he had even the luxury of a voice to accompany him. He reminds himself that Evan does this for a living, he’s seen it all. There’s no let-down. Especially since Evan seems to be getting so much out of it too. 

“Yeah. Wait for me?”

“Whatever you want.”

There aren’t words for a moment. Eddie doesn’t need them, Evan doesn’t offer them. He just listens to the rhythmic sound of Evan fucking himself on his fingers, punctuated by little moans and gasps. It’s the best thing he’s ever heard, and he’s getting closer by the second, precum leaking over his hand in a way it hasn’t since high school. 

“Please,” Evan whines. “Please, I need to come.”

Eddie allows himself to moan with his own climax, barely managing through it to tell Evan to go ahead, come, make himself come. He listens along to the way Evan gets louder, then quiet, then silent as the aftershocks shiver through him. His legs are shaking. He realizes the line is still live, and says softly, “Thank you.”

“Until next time, Cowboy.”

That’s when Evan hangs up on him, and Eddie is left alone in his empty room. He needs a shower and some clean clothes. Somehow, it’s lonelier after the call, even as he marks Evan as his default operator for the inevitable future calls.

**-**

When Buck started working for the phone sex line, it was for the money, he’ll admit that. He was fresh back in the states, out of the SEALs, and only certain of one thing about himself- his sex appeal. He knows he’s hot. Besides, although his accent has all but faded in the twenty years he’s lived in the US, he still knows how to drag it back on, and everyone’s a sucker for it. The accent helps keep him safe, too. So no one recognizes his voice outside the call. There are some moments, early mornings and late nights where it sinks in anyways out of habit from being a child. 

Since then, he’s grown. He has a steady job and stable income with the LAFD, and friends and family to support him- but the thing about working the lines is that it’s  _ fun _ . It’s relaxing in a way nothing else is. When he picks up his work phone, holds it to his ear tucked between the sheets of his bed, he doesn’t have to be strong or brave. No matter what’s happened in the city, whether he feels loved or abandoned, he’s good at this. He’s wanted. For hours, he’ll talk his way through being wanted. Sometimes he gets off with them, but mostly, he just pretends because he honestly can’t come that much in such a short span. It’s not like they’ll know any different. 

But with that one caller, Cowboy, it was different. Sure, Buck could just look up his name in the system, see who paid for the time, but that feels violating when Cowboy clearly didn’t want to share. Fine, that’s his business. Maybe he’s still closeted- Buck gets a lot of callers like those. He was nervous in an endearing way, and so clearly sweet and loving. He’s the sort of guy who deserves- and craves- a lot more than just the temporary false intimacy of the call, but doesn’t know how to get it. Or maybe isn’t ready.

Buck can’t get over the fact that he didn’t want to choke him. He didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t think Buck was an object to get off on like a teenage girl uses her stuffed animal in the dark of night. Cowboy saw him as a person. And to be completely honest, Buck got off pretty damn good along with him, so hard he didn’t take any more calls that night. 

He’s not that surprised, and maybe even a little smug, when late at night his work phone rings with the Texas area code that caught his eye last time. No doubt, Cowboy has come back for seconds- and not even a week later. Buck takes a deep breath to settle into the right headspace, strips off his clothes, and gets comfortable among his pillows.

“Hey,” he says. He already knows who’s on the other line, but it’s safer not to assume. “Need some company?”

“You have no idea.”

Yeah. It’s him. It’s Cowboy, sounding just as intoxicating as last time with his rough voice and slight drawl. Buck makes himself wait to touch, not wanting to end this too fast. He’ll enjoy it tonight. He’s earned that, he thinks.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you for days. I don’t think someone’s ever made me come that hard, just from talking.”

Buck means it too, and he can hear the blush on Cowboy’s face as he stutters through whatever he meant to say in response.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Cowboy huffs a laugh. “Probably better. I could barely stand, after. I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”

“Like?”

“I want to use my mouth on you. On your dick.”

There’s that nervous energy again, adorably eager and making Buck fumble for the lube to imitate that beautiful slick glide. Sure, he’s no stranger to getting blowies from someone whose name he’s never learned, but this feels special. Different. He almost trusts that Cowboy would take the time to do it right for him. 

“I’d love that. I just know you’d make it feel good, baby, you’d make me desperate. I’d want to pull on your hair, make you go faster. I can tell you’d tease me. Just thinking about your mouth is making me so hard, you have no idea.”

There’s a soft swear on the other side of the call, and Buck decides to do something he’s definitely not supposed to, not allowed to. 

“Can you receive pictures on this phone, Cowboy?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Buck bites his lip. “Do you wanna see?”

“Can I? Please?”

“Give me a minute.”

He mutes his end, listens to Cowboy touching himself and breathing hard as he tries to take a half-decent picture of himself. He used to be good at that, but the beauty of phone sex is that no one can see. He wants Cowboy to see him. Buck winds up sending two shots, one of his hard cock resting against his stomach, dripping precum and flushed pink at the head. The other is more focused on the way his abs look tensed like this. When they go through, he hears the phone ding. 

“Oh my God,” Cowboy whispers. “You have no idea how badly I want to be there with you.”

“I can guess, if it’s anywhere near how much I want to touch you right now. I’d ride you after, you know. Even if I’m too sensitive. That way you could see all of me while I fuck myself on your cock. Touch all of me.”

“Think you could take it all?” 

Surprised at the confidence, Buck takes the bait. “Think you’re something special? Show me.”

“I will.”

About thirty seconds later, the photo comes in. And Cowboy sure is something, something beautiful. He’s long and thick, his dick in hand and the blurred background of a sculpted chest hinting at more than just this part of him being something out of a wet dream. Buck would die to touch that thing in real life, touch Cowboy, make good on everything they’ve said. 

“Damn. Guess I need to get a bigger dildo, then. That way I know what to look forward to.”

Cowboy laughs, a real laugh that comes from the chest, and Buck aches with how much he wants him. He’s kind, he’s sweet, he’s fucking hung. Even if just for one night, he’d want to know. But the guy’s in Texas, and this is a transactional relationship. So he reigns himself in, no matter how much it hurts, and brings himself back to the persona these calls really desire.

“Are you thinking about it?” he asks. “You want me to ride you, don’t you, love?”

The response is immediate, and much more serious than the last. “I want it so bad. I want to cover you in love bites, I- I want you to feel good, to take it and like it.”

“I won’t just like it, Cowboy, I’ll love it.”

“I know you will.” 

Somehow, they’ve shifted from the hypothetical to something real, a phrasing that suggests more than the idea; it says they’re going to. Buck wants it in ways he can’t explain, so he just focuses on getting himself and his Cowboy- his customer- off. This is easier than getting attached. In an industry like this, it just isn’t a real possibility, a safe idea. He’d get let down, or worse, killed. 

His mind is far away by the time he gets off, something that he can almost ignore because he does it so much. That’s why it was special the first call- it felt really good, for once. This time, it’s back to dull. Still, he files away every noise Cowboy makes and every promise from his lips to revisit in the dark sometime later, when he’ll spend hours tending to himself without worrying about the way he sounds. 

He realizes afterwards that he doesn’t much care how he sounds on the phone with Cowboy, either. It doesn’t seem like he’s the sort who would get mad if Buck moans a little too high pitched or he gets quiet from time to time. He has a faith in this client that he has no right to, but it’s nice to believe in a good thing, if only for a little while.

**-**

About three weeks after the move, Eddie starts at the 118. He’s called the service, or more specifically, Evan, almost five times. His bank account is getting thin, which is why the paycheck is nice, even if he feels guilty for paying for the attention he could get for free in a bar if he could just get over himself. They don’t exchange pictures again, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about (or looking at) what Evan sent him.

Even when he doesn’t call, because he can’t support it as a daily habit, he uses those pictures to bring himself to the edge. It’s easy to think about the things Evan said. He thinks about sucking him off, about holding his hips in place as he thrusts up into him, about leaving little marks all over that beautiful chest and those powerful thighs. Having something to imagine as he listens has made it all the more intense. He barely knows what to do with it all.

Being able to release all that tension definitely makes him feel lighter, eases some of the weight on his shoulders and makes it easier to get up in the morning and make breakfast for Christopher. Granted, that breakfast usually consists of scrambled eggs or cereal, but hey- it’s something.

“Auntie Pepa is gonna pick you up from school today,” he says, pouring milk over Christopher’s cheerios. “I’ll come get you at six and we can have pizza for dinner, sound good?”

Chris agrees, excited, seemingly unphased by Eddie being gone again, even if it’s temporary. Being a firefighter is going to have strange hours, but he’ll be around a lot more than he was in El Paso. These shifts that run a little late in the evening are worth it. Plus, he gets to take Christopher to school himself, carry his backpack in and make sure he’s settled because this school is still new and frightening. 

He drops Christopher off and kisses the top of his head goodbye, waits for him to be all ready at his desk before jogging back to the truck. It’s not that he thinks he’s going to be late, but he specifically wants to be early and make a good impression on the team that he’ll be working with for the foreseeable future. Eddie wants the kind of bond, strength, that came with army camaraderie, and appearing lazy isn’t exactly conducive to that. 

The 118 is cold from the outside. It’s a stiff brick of a building, with a handful of cars parked outside in the strict painted parking spots. Eddie pulls into one a little bit away from the rest, just to give himself an extra moment to get his thoughts together. This is the first day of the rest of his life. He adjusts his collar with care and makes sure his uniform is properly put together. It’s still stiff, starched with unuse, not yet comfortable. His fatigues were like that too, but they became a second skin after a while.

When he finally gets himself to walk in, he finds the team all polishing up the engine making it gleam, joking with ease amongst themselves. Eddie’s eyes immediately land on one of the firefighters. His hair is a soft sandy brown-blonde, and his blue eyes are piercing even from a distance. Besides that, the way he fills out the uniform makes his body a focal point of the room in a way that Eddie can’t breathe around. And his lips look so kissable it hurts. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. He adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder. “I’m Eddie Diaz, I’m the new recruit.”

The hot firefighter drops the cloth in his hand and very slowly scans over Eddie’s body in a decidedly unsubtle way. It would normally leave Eddie feeling pretty self conscious, but he kind of likes the attention; it fits right in with the way he feels desired on all those phone calls with Evan.

“Chimney Han,” one of the others says. “This is Hen Wilson-” he points to the woman counting out medical supplies for the ambulance, “and that’s Buck.”

“Nice to meet you all.”

“Pleasure to meet you too,” Buck says. 

Something in his voice is familiar, but Eddie can’t quite place it. Either way, he can practically feel it in his chest, wants to listen to Buck talk for hours although they’ve just met. Eddie just smiles at him. Chim gestures to the locker room to set down his things, and tells him where he can find Captain Nash to officially start his first day. 

For the first month or so on the job, things are stiff, but easy. Eddie falls into this routine of going to work and coming home, spending time with Christopher and family, and figuring out what it’s like to live somewhere that loves him more than El Paso did. He calls Evan on his nights off, long after Christopher is down for the night, and looks at those photos sent. Eddie hasn’t quite come up with the confidence to ask him for more, or send anything. But fuck, do those images live rent free in his mind. 

Things with Buck are a little bit strange, to be quite honest; it’s been clear from day one that Buck thinks he’s attractive, and Eddie would be lying if he didn’t think the same. He’s a sweet guy, honest and kind with a thousand watt smile. And his face, his muscles- they’re to die for. They’re close friends before long, but there’s some things that just don’t make sense, leaving Eddie with the idea that maybe they’re not as close as he thought. 

For one, Buck has two cell phones. There’s his normal one, which Eddie has the number for, and is populated with pictures of the 118 team and little mobile games. And then there’s the other one. It’s simple, looks like it’s from 2010 with its thick weight and the lack of a front camera, and never leaves Buck’s apartment. Once or twice, he’s gotten a message on it, or a call, but he won’t answer them in front of Eddie. In fact, he turns it off if that happens. Eddie asked once, but that just turned into a fight. He hasn’t asked since. 

It’s just easier not to push on things Buck isn’t open about, he learns, and gets comfortable with spending time at each other’s houses and sharing meals. Buck becomes part of his life somehow, by Eddie’s third month in LA, as common a fixture in the apartment as Evan. Christopher adores Buck, misses him when he’s not by during the week. Eddie opens up about everything, from his time in the army and the PTSD that followed to Shannon abandoning him and Christopher. Buck opens up about some things in turn. He talks about his parents, and his sister leaving him. Once or twice he’s mentioned that he used to travel. Mostly though, Buck talks about the here and now. Eddie accepts that there are some things he will never know, even if it makes him feel a little lonely at times. 

The good thing is that when the night draws to a close, leaving him to his own devices, he can fill that space with Evan. Sometimes, it takes time for him to answer. The receptionist he talked to the first time will hop back on after a minute and warn him that it’ll be ten to twenty minutes until Evan is available, and he says he’ll wait. 

It’s like that tonight. Buck just left, Eddie’s fuzzy with a few beers, and all he wants is the way talking to Evan makes him feel. He’s already naked and softly tucked under his sheets as the waiting music plays against his ear. The wait is worth it for Evan. He should be afraid of how much he’s grown to rely on this, but it somehow feels like one of the best things he’s ever done. 

Finally, after what feels like forever, the music clicks off and that beautiful voice is ready for him again. Evan, laughing a little over the static speaker. “Back again, Cowboy?”

“You know I can’t resist you.”

“Oh, I know, love. I know. And-” there’s the usual shuffle at the beginning of these calls. Evan’s getting naked, getting comfortable “I’ll admit, I can’t resist you either.”

“Going soft on me, Evan?”

“Never.”

Eddie listens to him breathe on the other end, faint and steady, before he gets his thoughts together enough to tell Evan what he wants, what he craves. Every single thing has been met with enthusiasm.  _ I want that too _ becomes a familiar phrase, a loved phrase. 

“I’ve been thinking about your pictures,” he finally says. “I really want to taste you.”

Evan inhales sharply. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to be able to touch you for real, make you feel good. I know that’s not what this is, but…”

“I get it.” Evan’s voice gets softer then, more vulnerable. “It’s nice to pretend. We can do that, Cowboy, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” 

There’s a humming noise, one of approval, and then a click followed by a heavy buzz. “I got this toy last week. I wanted you to be the one to use it on me for the first time, but I just couldn’t wait.” He moans a little. “You’d tease me though, wouldn’t you?”

“Probably. I like when you get whiny.”

They’ve built this rapport, over the past however many (too many) calls since it started. It’s comfortable to rib and jibe, the same way it is with the 118. Evan has that easy cheerfulness to him, even when he’s breathy and close to coming, his words twice as filthy as the sound of his hand on himself. 

“I got this new toy,” Evan says, “because I needed something as big as your cock was in that picture. I had to feel it.” He whines a little. “I feel so full, you have no idea. I wish you were here to fuck me properly.”

“I’d make you scream.”

Evan moans in his ear. His sounds are so beautiful. “Yeah, Cowboy, I bet you would.” A pause. “Want me to show you?”

“Yes, please.”

Eddie can’t wait to see him again in any way, even if it’s just a photo of how hard he is, how needy he is on the other end. He’s real. Not just talking for money, not just playing along, but actively enjoying every conversation they have. He takes a photo of his own dick in his hand, just in case, in case Evan wants a picture back- Eddie’s more than happy to return the favor of an image to come to.

His phone dings and he’s gifted with a video. He mutes his end of the call with Evan for a moment to watch it. It’s only about ten seconds, but it’s life-changing. The phone is propped up against something, showing off Evan’s spread legs and the way a bright purple toy disappears inside of him, audibly buzzing as it vibrates, accompanied by moans and whimpers as Evan fucks himself with it. 

Immediately Eddie unmutes the call and sends his photo back in return. 

“You’re killing me here,” he complains. 

“You like it.”

His cock twitches in his hand as Evan moans again. “Yeah, probably. Fuck, I wish I was there with you. I could fuck you with that thing for hours before I even get my dick in you.”

“Please.”

That please sounds so familiar, like he’s heard it somewhere other than these calls, but not enough so that Eddie can place it. He ignores the nagging feeling and just carries on doing what he always has- getting off to Evan’s beautiful voice and ensuring that Evan gets as good as he gives. 

They wind up exchanging a couple dozen more little photos and videos before they come, leaving Eddie feeling satisfied all the way to his bones. It felt good, looked good. He has to properly catch his breath before he can even move. And if deep down, he’s still trying to figure out where he knows Evan’s voice from, no one needs to know but himself. 

**-**

Eddie is probably the best friend that Buck’s had in forever. He’s sweet, loving, kind, a great father. Even if they started off rocky- Buck forgot how to speak when he saw how hot he was- things have gotten better. It feels like they were made for each other, made to work together. On rescues, it’s almost like they’re connected telepathically. Buck looks at Eddie and receives a nod of understanding. They’re always on the same page, understanding plans in a split second. It’s the sort of partnership one can only dream of.

And his voice is familiar. He sounds a lot like Buck’s favorite client, Cowboy. They share an area code on their phone numbers. Cowboy calls a lot when Buck is on his way home from Eddie’s, or has just arrived. It’s all a coincidence, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter when he pictures Eddie’s body to accompany the voice on his work phone. No one needs to know.

Sure, suddenly having someone to spend time with outside work, including Eddie’s son Christopher, means he isn’t available as much for the sex line, but it’s worth it for the days he spends cooking with Eddie or coloring with Chris. It’s a good replacement, one he can’t imagine losing. He thinks this might actually be the happiest he’s ever been.

Until finally, things go to shit. He should have known good things for him don’t last. 

They’re on a call, an apartment building fire, that leaves Buck and Eddie trying to clear the last unchecked floor. Debris is coming down around them and Bobby wants them out, but the two of them only had to lock eyes to know they would finish checking the floor. It’s nothing new for them, screaming, "LAFD CALL OUT!" every time they bang their fists against a door. There’s no responses, so they prepare to head out when finally, the ceiling gives out. It had to happen. Eddie pushes Buck out of the way, and before his feet are stable beneath him again, there’s just a face and an outstretched arm reaching past the plaster. 

“Eddie!”

He drops to his knees beside him. Thankfully, Eddie’s eyes are still open, still moving. He coughs. Alive. Fuck, he’s alive. Buck grabs his radio with shaking hands.

“Bobby, the ceiling came down. Eddie’s trapped.”

“Please,” Eddie breathes. 

While he doesn’t finish whatever he was asking for, Buck’s lungs seize up in his chest. He’s heard it before. He knows now, how he recognizes Eddie’s voice, and he’s an idiot for not putting two and two together sooner. He should’ve known, he laments, before he’s able to refocus. It doesn’t matter that Eddie is Cowboy, or that there’s hope for something more between them. All that matters are Eddie’s labored breaths and the blood sneaking out from under the debris. 

“I’m gonna dig him out,” Buck tells the radio. 

Bobby replies asking if they need help. There isn’t time to answer as Buck starts grabbing pieces of plaster and flooring, throwing them in any direction away from Eddie. He has to get him out of here, even if it kills him. He won’t leave him behind. Buck’s oxygen tank warns him he’s low, as Eddie’s screams empty. They’re running out of air, out of time, as Buck finally uncovers enough of Eddie’s body to pull him out. He’s covered in scrapes and cuts, bleeding freely from so many places. His pulse is still beating when Buck checks. 

His body is heavy and still as Buck descends countless flights of stairs. He barely registers the burn in his muscles or the blood coating his turnout as he rushes to safety. Fresh air and familiar faces. Hen and Chimney take Eddie from him and carry him to the ambulance right away. In the blink of an eye he’s gone, leaving Buck there, staring at the red coating his gloves. 

“There’s three other stations here,” Bobby says. “We can go home.”

Buck doesn’t really register the words. Bobby helps him into the truck and doesn’t talk to him the whole way home. There’s so much blood on Buck’s gear that some probie on the next shift will be washing off that he can barely breathe around it’s scent. Eddie was hurt. Hurt badly, and it’s all Buck’s fault for not getting them out of there fast enough. For getting distracted. For realizing at the very worst fucking moment that Eddie is the man whose voice he’s been getting off to for the last many months. 

That information and the memory of Eddie’s dead weight in his arms are heavy even after he’s back in his civvies, hiding behind the wheel of his truck on his way home. The company has his schedule so soon they’ll ask him to take calls, but he can’t tonight. It feels wrong. He hates himself for it. His personal cell goes off almost the second he gets inside. It’s Eddie. Buck can’t throw his phone aside fast enough. 

He doesn’t even turn on his work phone. Let it ring straight to voicemail all night. Buck showers and gets into bed. It occurs to him, in the back of his mind, that this might be the first night in years that he hasn’t ended with his dick in his hand or in someone else. It’s almost weird to lay down in bed for the night with no one to speak to, no touch to release pent up energy.

Downstairs, his phone buzzes on the counter all over again, faintly audible from the loft. Let it buzz its way onto the floor, shatter into a thousand pieces. Buck doesn’t particularly care. Whatever happens isn’t his problem tonight. 

Buck falls asleep, dreaming of that moment that he thought Eddie was dead. His body, so still. The blood. The smoke, the lack of oxygen. It’s not a nightmare, because that implies some level of pain. There’s no pain, just this emptiness. He watches and he doesn’t feel. But in the morning, when he wakes up in a cold sweat with no memory of the dream, he pretends not to hear his phone ring again. 

**-**

Eddie’s been on leave from the station for two days now. He’s got the week, pending clearance from his doctor, and he’s getting a little stir crazy. Besides some general scrapes and bruises, Eddie has six stitches on a cut on his back, four on his arm, and nine on his leg- plus a case of smoke inhalation. He’s lucky nothing is broken. Hen said he’s lucky he’s alive. She says Buck had to dig him out of the rubble with no oxygen for either of them, and carried him by himself from the building falling down around them. Eddie doesn’t remember that. He can’t confirm it either, because Buck hasn’t spoken to him since it first happened. 

It’s been nice to be home with Christopher, he won’t lie. He’s gotten to eat three meals with his son a day. They watch cartoons and play legos as the hours wear on, and Eddie’s able to hug him often when he remembers thinking he was going to die. The week off is a nice respite to remember why he does the job and how important his family is. 

He misses Buck, though. Chimney, Hen and Bobby have all come by to check on him, either in the hospital or at home. They ply him with jokes and memes over text to pass the time. It keeps him from being lonely without them. It’s just that the radio silence from Buck is killing him, but he’s still too tired to try driving to the station or Buck’s apartment to figure out why he’s avoiding him. Sometime within the next couple days, he’s going to have to try. 

Eddie tries calling Evan that night, after he puts Christopher to bed. He needs something to make himself feel capable again. That’s the one thing he can rely on. When he calls Evan, he’s worthy of everything and he’s enough. And if they both get off in the process, the charges to his card are worth it. 

When he dials the number, though, after a moment of wait music, the receptionist comes back to him. Eddie expects to hear that Evan is busy and will come through in about twenty minutes. Instead she apologizes to him. 

“Unfortunately, Evan declined your call, I’m not sure why. I can connect you to a different operator if you like?”

He’s lost Evan now, too?

“No thanks, uh- but thank you. Have a good one.”

He hangs up. It’s quiet without Evan’s voice to join him. It’s not as though Eddie can’t get off without him; he did it plenty before he gave in and dialed the line, that’s for sure. But he’s gotten used to the company more than he has listening to Evan come. He misses having someone with him to say he was good enough. Eddie looks at the pictures in their text history in hopes of having some piece to cling to and get him off. It’s easier to sleep after. That might just be because he gets to talk to Evan, but he’s hoping this will scratch that itch well enough. 

He watches the video of Evan fucking himself again, studies every little pixel of it. Eddie watches the way his thighs shake, follows the lines of his hand where they shift and move as he works the toy. He enjoys the visible tightening of the muscles in his stomach. The play of the light on his sweat soaked skin is more beautiful than it has any right to be. And those beautiful noises are still Eddie’s to enjoy, even if he couldn’t call him. Evan must be busy. It’s dumb luck that he’s never had to work it out on his own before. But he still has the photos, the videos that were entrusted to him and make his heart beat twice as fast. 

It’s not enough and leaves him more frustrated than anything else. Of course those images are stunning and hot, and he has hours of memories to fall back on, but it just leaves him frustrated without Evan’s voice coaxing him on. Don’t get him wrong, he tries; he warms up the lube in his hand first, he pulls out all the stops for the way he likes to keep it slow and firm, he pays extra attention to his balls, but it just isn’t enough. He rides the painful edge until there’s tears in his eyes before he gives up and rolls over onto his stomach.

He tries again the next evening, and gets declined again. At that point, Eddie doesn’t even bother trying to get off on his own and expends the pent up energy tidying around the house. Getting hurt has made it easy to let dishes pile in the sink and empty bottles scatter the coffee table. He stretches his sore muscles in between tasks. As he cleans out the fridge, he texts Buck again, another message to the building column on the right side of the screen. The read receipt is ticked on the first few, but has since disappeared, meaning Buck either isn’t opening the messages or finally figured out how to turn read receipts off. 

With a glance at the clock on the oven, he sees that it’s only half past eight. Christopher is down for the night, won’t need him again until morning. It’s a long shot on such short notice, but he switches to the phone app and calls Carla. 

“Hey, Eddie, is everything okay?”

He looks at the photo on his fridge. It’s Buck and Christopher on the pier, eating ice cream together, in the bright heat of the summer. Just a couple weeks ago they went together, and Eddie printed the picture off at Walmart without hesitation. 

“Yeah, Buck’s just been ignoring me since the… since I got hurt. I know it’s short notice, but do you think you could come stay with Chris while I go talk to him? He’s already asleep and should be down for the night, and obviously no pressure if you can’t-”

“Eddie.” In the space after she says his name, he remembers to take a deep breath. “I’ll be there in twenty. You need to talk to him.”

He can’t thank her enough.

The time spent waiting for her to get here is killing him, but he’s not going to just up and leave his kid alone in the house. He drinks a glass of water and changes his shirt twice. He doesn’t want there to be any visual reminders of his hurt, when he’s almost 100% certain that caused this.

Carla is barely in the door when he leaves, repeating his thanks and telling her to help herself to the fridge. He drops his keys outside his car twice in his haste. Putting the key in the ignition is a fumbling gamble. He just needs to get to Buck and figure out what’s wrong because he can’t stand the silence anymore, especially with Evan gone too. Between them both, they’ve held Eddie together in ways that he’s needed for so long he had forgotten they were missing. 

As some sort of warning, he calls Buck on bluetooth during the drive. It rings twice before Buck sends it to voicemail. Fine. No warning, then. He just can’t carry on like this, not knowing why this space between them suddenly exists.

By some miracle, he doesn’t trip getting out of his car, or sprint going into the apartment building to find his way to Buck’s loft. He has a key to it. If Buck doesn’t answer when he knocks, he’ll let himself in. They’ve talked about this a handful of times; Buck told him that he can come in whenever he wants or needs to, and Eddie has said the same. It’s not as though he’s crossing some line that’s been drawn. He’s just trying to understand. 

There’s a faint murmur of Buck’s voice on the other side of the wood, not loud enough to be distinct, but clearly him talking. It’s got a strange set to it. But it’s definitely him, and when Eddie knocks a few times with a closed fist, his voice doesn’t quiet, grow closer, or change at all. He counts to thirty before he uses his key, just in case Buck is going to come answer the door. For those thirty seconds, he can believe that Buck might let him in. 

Of course, though, he doesn’t, and Eddie is left jamming the key into the lock and coming in with a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. He still shuts the door behind him- always a courteous neighbor- before he approaches the living room, where Buck is spread out on the couch and- 

-And he’s naked. Mostly, anyways. He still has his boxers on, but other than that, there’s miles of defined muscle on display and a moment of panic on Buck’s face. But then it smooths. It turns to an expression Eddie has never seen on his face, but wants to remember for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah, I’m still here, baby,” Buck purrs into the phone up against his ear. 

It clicks, then. The second phone. The way Evan started avoiding him too. The way Buck’s voice has always been so familiar, but never so much so as hearing this crisp accent in person instead of over the phone. He can’t believe he didn’t put it together. Evan is even Buck’s legal first name. Buck must have made that connection around or after Eddie got hurt. 

“Oh, I’d love that. You like it sloppy? Because I do sloppy well, believe me.”

Eddie can’t hear the other half of the conversation, but he doesn’t need to. This is the voice that has brought him to orgasm countless times, to the point that he can’t get off without it. And it’s Buck, beautiful, sweet, caring and kind, who did that for him. 

“Go ahead, wreck me. I want you to.”

Buck gestures toward the chair, for Eddie to sit down. He does it without thinking, spreading his legs comfortably and taking in the spread of Buck’s body. He recognizes parts of him from the locker rooms at work, other parts from the photos sent. None of that has anything on the way Buck looks now, waiting for him, putting on a show. All the things they’ve talked about doing flood his mind as real possibilities. 

“I want you inside me so bad.” Buck lifts his hips to shimmy out of his boxers, still watching Eddie with those stunning half-lidded blue eyes. A flush is coming up on his cheeks. It’s hard to decide whether to look there or at Buck’s dick, half hard and resting against his stomach. Ready to be touched. “Fuck, you have no idea. I need you.”

When Buck decides that it’s fine to touch himself during whatever this is, Eddie figures he can do the same. He pops the button of his jeans and pulls them down enough to get himself out. This is real. All he can think about is going over there and touching Buck, but he’s been told to sit, and there’s a third person to contend with. Buck’s talking to someone else, getting someone else off while he watches Eddie touch himself, and there’s something so unexpectedly hot about that. Especially when Buck moans, his lips almost against the speaker of the phone, but it’s so clear that the sound is really for Eddie. 

“I’m close too, baby. I’m so close, fuck.”

He’s not. And it sounds different than the way Buck says it on the phone with him. His breathing is too even, and while he’s good at making it sound real, there aren’t those beautiful little whines that Eddie has grown to love. It’s what callers want though, he realizes, and listens to Buck fake an orgasm for nearly a full minute before offering a sultry dismissal to the line and hanging up. 

“I was on the phone with a client,” Buck says, like it isn’t obvious. The accent has mostly slipped from his words, just clinging to the edges now. “I didn’t fake it with you, by the way.”

“Why fake it with them?”

Buck stands up like he’s not naked, or the most stunning thing Eddie has ever laid eyes on. “Not everyone can actually make me come, Eddie, and I sometimes take a dozen calls in a night. My dick would fall off.”

“So I was good for you?”

Eddie means it to be teasing, but it comes across softer than that. It’s a little too vulnerable. But like always, Buck clings to it and his face goes impossibly soft. “Yeah, you were good for me.” 

The moment seems to break when Eddie remembers he has a hand on himself, and Buck standing in front of him as all of his fantasies come to life. Right now, he’s offering. Eddie could say no and turn away. Or he could enjoy what he wants. 

“We have to talk, after,” he says. “Promise me we’ll talk?”

“I promise.”

Buck leans down to kiss him once, chaste and quick, gone before Eddie can do a single thing about it. He’s halfway up the loft, looking back over his shoulder with a half-shy smile by the time Eddie realizes it’s happened. The soft light of the lamps wash over him in beautiful shadows, emphasizing the dimples at the small of his back, the curve of his ass, the shifting muscles in his thighs. He’s breathtaking. 

“Coming, Cowboy?”

He nods and gets up, stumbling a bit on his pants still around his thighs. He forces himself to take a moment to get undressed before following Buck to the bed. It’s easier than wrestling with it there when he should be turning his full and complete focus on Buck. Like earlier, he nearly trips, but thankfully he doesn’t. 

When he gets there, Buck is already relaxing on the sheets, the lube bottle open on the nightstand. He looks like a vision, ready to be wrecked, but his eyes go all soft and sappy again when they trace over Eddie’s body. 

Without his clothes, the damage is obvious. His chest is covered in bruises, and the stitches on his arm and leg are on full display in their ugly wrinkled skin. He’s going to apologize, but then Buck gets up on his knees and reaches out for him. 

“I was so scared,” he admits when Eddie meets him halfway. “I didn’t want to lose you. When I found out you were- Eddie, I couldn’t.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”

**-**

Eddie’s skin is softer than Buck could have imagined. His cheeks are rough with stubble, but the rest of him is so easy to touch, drawing him in like a siren’s song. Not that his stubble doesn’t do that, either. His voice is reassuring in person, more than it was over the phone because it’s  _ Eddie _ . This isn’t just sex for either of them. It’s more than that. And Eddie’s eyes are glassy but adoring as he guides Buck to lay back on the bed and finally kisses him properly.

To be honest, Buck considers himself a good kisser, and a good partner in bed. He certainly has plenty of experience of all kinds. Still, he can’t help losing himself when he kisses Eddie because fuck, Eddie’s really good at it. One hand cups Buck’s jaw reverently while the other trails up and down his side in a steady rhythm. His lips, warm and soft, move just perfectly against Buck’s. When he slips his tongue out to skim along Buck’s bottom lip, it’s a promise of all the other things he can do with that mouth. 

But he’s still hurt.

Buck pushes lightly against his chest and Eddie backs off in an instant, breathing heavy and hard against his hip but willing to wait for him. He doesn’t push or demand or hurt. He’s so good Buck doesn’t know what to do with it. 

“You’re hurt. I don’t want you to pull your stitches or something.”

“Hey.” Eddie takes Buck’s hand and squeezes it. “I’m okay. I’m gonna be okay. You won’t hurt me. If you don’t want to do this, it’s okay-”

He shakes his head. “No, I want to. I’ve wanted to for so long, you have no idea.”

“Wanna tell me how you wanted me?”

Awkwardly, Buck laughs. He’s good at his side job, worked hard to perfect it. It can be fun too- he wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t- but it’s not the way he is in person. Evan pulls back an accent from early years and gives into whatever is wanted. But he’s not Evan in this room anymore, he’s Buck, and he doesn’t have to pretend with Eddie. 

“Actually, I’m not much of a talker during sex.”

“The irony.”

Eddie goes back to kissing him without question, accepting Buck’s wants just like that. It’s enough to make his eyes go glassy. He blinks it away as Eddie’s capable hand finds the inside of his thigh and nudges his legs apart. Now they’re getting somewhere. He grabs onto Eddie’s good arm and gasps when dry fingers brush against his hole. He knows Eddie won’t push in without lube. It’s just a tease. A good tease, though, one he revels in for a few seconds as Eddie explores the most private part of him before holding out the lube.

“Please, Eddie.” 

“I’ve got you.” 

Unfortunately, it means Eddie sits back on his haunches to do this right. No more kisses. Buck pouts as he crosses his arms behind his head, ready to make some bratty comment, but then Eddie’s leaning down to press a barely-there kiss against his stomach.

“Fuck.”

Eddie smiles at him. “Getting there.”

He peppers Buck’s hips and thighs with kisses, some chaste and some filthy wet, as he trails his now lubed fingers across his hole. Still not pushing in. Still teasing. Buck doesn’t have to wait long though, because Eddie pushes a single finger into him before planting a kiss directly on his dick. 

“Shit,” he hisses, his legs jumping instinctively. “Warn a guy.”

“I mean, I don’t have to put my mouth on you while I prep you.”

He narrows his eyes down at Eddie and gets lost in his crooked smile. “I knew you’d be a tease.”

In response, Eddie takes Buck’s cock in his free hand and holds it so he can fit the tip into his mouth. Buck can’t help the way his hips jerk up into it, or the whine that escapes him. Of course Eddie’s just as good in real life as he was over the phone. It should’ve been obvious. He puts the same focus into this as he does into his job, and his prideful eyes are the same when he slips in a second finger and curls both against Buck’s prostate. 

It’s honestly impressive the way he so easily coordinates prepping and teasing Buck with his hand while he gives him a slow, toe-curling blowjob that has drool dripping down his chin. Buck reaches to wipe some of it away on instinct. Before he can touch, though, Eddie pulls off and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, followed by removing his hand too. So much has suddenly become so little, and Buck whimpers at the feeling. 

“Fuck me already, please.”

There’s no teasing quip back this time. Eddie coats himself in lube and settles on his knees just right before leaning over Buck’s body again. They’re face to face like this. Finally. Buck studies the little smile lines at the corners of his eyes. He’s so beautiful. Just as Buck lifts his face to kiss him again, Eddie lines up and starts to push in.

While Buck knew what to expect, and did in fact buy that bigger toy because of the picture Eddie sent, that has nothing on the real deal. It’s different to have Eddie slowly pushing inside him, hot and thick, his breath coming in soft pants and his hips stuttering forward because it feels just as good for him. This might be the most full Buck’s ever been in his entire life.

“For as much as you fucked yourself on the phone with me,” Eddie breathes, “you’re really tight.”

Buck smiles and wraps his arms around his neck. “It’s a gift, baby. Now move.”

As soon as the words pass his lips, Eddie listens. He doesn’t go particularly fast or hard, favoring his injured ribs in a way Buck understands too well, but it’s still deep and the pace is enough for it to be hard to keep up with. It feels like his breath keeps getting punched out of his chest, and when Eddie presses his upper body against Buck to get even closer, it makes perfect friction against his dick. He’s not going to last like this. He can’t. He can’t even come up with the words to express that, just cling to Eddie tighter and mouth sloppily along his neck as the pleasure builds. 

Eddie was quiet on the phone for the most part, but Buck thinks that may have just been the phone not picking it up. In person, he grunts and moans quietly, barely puffs of air next to his face that he probably wouldn’t hear if they weren’t so close. They’re just as beautiful as Eddie himself. Buck arches his back off the bed and tries to last just a little longer, until Eddie is almost finished too because he wants this to be perfect.

Real life isn’t perfect like the movies, but it’s perfect in a different sort of way. When Buck comes, unable to hold back, covering himself and Eddie with it, the response is immediate. Eddie moans, low and long, and his hips snap forward into Buck. He’s fucking him a bit faster now, much less coordinated. Clearly, he’s chasing his own finish. Even oversensitive, overwhelmed, Buck would do anything for him. He pulls Eddie down to tuck his face against the crook of Buck’s neck and threads his fingers through his hair. Between punched out whines from the overstimulation, he stutters out how beautiful Eddie is, what a good job he’s doing. 

“C’mon, Cowboy,” he murmurs, “Come for me. Come inside me.” 

Whether it’s because of those words or not, Eddie comes in the split second after Buck speaks. He moans, clinging to Buck tightly, as his thrusts turn to slow grinds as he works through his orgasm. It’s perfect. It’s everything, and when Eddie finally pulls out, Buck reaches for a couple tissues so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes and risk saying something stupid like  _ I want more than this _ .

As he starts to wipe the mess off his body, Eddie takes another tissue out of the box and helps as though it’s the most natural thing. In just a few seconds, Buck is clean, and then they get the rest of the mess off Eddie’s chest. There’s going to be more on the sheets come morning, especially because Eddie came inside, but that’s not important right now. 

“Can we talk in the morning?” Eddie asks.

It’s clear what he’s really asking. 

“Yeah.”

Buck scoots closer until he’s able to bury his face against Eddie’s chest. The arm that falls over his hip in response is proof that it’s okay. Maybe they were always meant to get here; there’s no other explanation for the way they got connected on the phone sex line that day so long ago, and wound up at the same firehouse too. It’s the perfect storm of circumstances that brought Buck someone who makes him so happy in every way possible. 

He falls asleep quickly, but not before hearing Eddie’s soft “I love you.”

-

Buck is angelic in the white morning light. His lashes rest heavy against his cheeks, his hair still messy from the night before without any of the gel that he uses at work. He’s softer here. It’s a good sort of soft, the kind that makes Eddie’s chest ache with the need to hold him close and kiss every inch of him. For now, he starts by kissing the birthmark above Buck’s eye.

Unfortunately being firefighters has made them both light sleepers, and Buck stirs with a quiet whine in Eddie’s arms. He doesn’t pull away, though. After the arguing and the missed connections, they finally made it into each other’s arms last night, and Eddie never wants to let go. It’s not just about the sex. It’s the way he feels when he talks to Buck.

“Morning,” Buck says. The accent has crept back in. “You’re still here?”

“Of course.”

His eyes look a little hazy when they open, partially disbelieving as well. In hopes of clearing it away, Eddie kisses him. Morning breath is the least important thing in the world right now. Buck presses his body closer, if physically possible, and they kiss until they have no choice but to break for air. Then, because they can, they dive back into another kiss once they relearn how to breathe. 

Eddie thinks they could have sex again right here and now, and it would be so easy. Buck’s body is already reacting to the attention, pressing hard against his lower stomach. It occurs to him, just vaguely, that Buck must be used to getting off a lot. It would mean a hell of a lot of effort to keep up, but every moment spent with him would be 100% worth it. He knows that if they’re ever more, he wouldn’t consider asking Buck to stop doing this job if it’s something he enjoys. 

He pulls back from the kiss once more to really look at Buck, so unbearably adorable at this hour and smiling a little with swollen pink lips. There’s so much they have yet to do. Hundreds of calls mean countless fantasies that they have forever to learn. Right now, he’s caught up in the idea of what it would look like- feel like- if Buck gave him head. He could ask and Buck probably would do it right now. But Eddie just wants to enjoy the moment with him for right now. 

“I love you.” Eddie said it last night, and he says it again now. “I think I’ve loved you for a really long time.”

Buck shifts back a little. “I- Eddie, I um…”

That burns. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m stupid, I just- I’ll get going, okay? I shouldn’t have said that.”

He sits up, fully prepared to run out. He shouldn’t have done this, let alone stayed the night. He knows better. Now he’s lost everything. They can’t be friends after something like that. Eddie’s ruined everything, and it’s best to leave before he manages to make it worse.

“Wait-”

Eddie pauses as Buck grabs his wrist. 

“I’m not ready to say it,” Buck says, and it sounds like a knife in Eddie’s lungs. There’s so much hurt left in his eyes from someone before. “Just give me some time? I- I feel happiest when I’m with you. That wasn’t just sex for me.”

He pulls him back in by that gentle grip, and Eddie allows it. Falling back into bed with Buck, holding him close again, is the most natural thing in the world and he has no idea how he lived this long without it. Their bodies fit together like their voices did over all those calls, and Buck hums contentedly as they settle back into the sheets. 

“I’m sorry I avoided you,” Buck says after a moment of silence. “Seeing you like that, not knowing if you would be okay was terrifying. I didn’t know what to do. And then you were talking to me and I recognized you, and I just- I was scared.” His eyes are shut as he speaks. “I didn’t know what you would do if you realized I was the one on the other line. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Eddie’s heart breaks, but he can’t say he doesn’t understand the fear of being abandoned. It’s happened to him plenty of times, and it never stops hurting. So he kisses both of Buck’s cheeks, his forehead, his nose, and finally his lips.

“You’re not going to lose me, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Buck warns.

As though he’d have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @gaychimney


End file.
